Neighborly Affection
by ChainOfPaperclips
Summary: Emma Swan's new neighbor, Killian Jones, is the talk of the neighborhood, and living next door to him is almost more than she can stand, especially since the man doesn't seem to own a shirt! But the tug she feels toward him is inexorable, and the genuine feelings that develop between them...quite unexpected. Captain Swan AU. Rated M for sex.
1. Chapter 1

They stumbled through the doorway to her bedroom, limbs entangled, mouths devouring each other, each of them frantically trying to divest the other of their clothing first. She should've known it would come to this, Emma thought, moaning as his lips pressed a hot trail of kisses down the curve of her neck to her bare shoulder. He pulled back with a smirk. Cerulean eyes radiated a passion that sent a jolt through her. Heat pooled between her thighs, aching with the need to be doused.

"Like that, do you, neighbor?" he teased, nipping at her lower lip as he moved to kiss her senseless again.

She should have seen it coming miles away. She'd been all but literally screwed the moment she rushed out the door to her car, four weeks ago, late for work.

_Emma locked the front door of her house and hurried down the sidewalk, cursing when she dropped her keys. Ducking to pick them up, she heard laughter. Keys in hand, she turned around, searching for its source, and spied a man sitting, shirtless, in the back of a half-empty moving truck, legs dangling toward the street. Raising his beer in salute when he noticed her noticing him, his smug smile practically lit up the entire block, never mind the flickering streetlamp nearby, struggling to make itself relevant in the semi-darkness. "Hello, neighbor," he drawled, his eyes roving over her not once, or even twice, but three times._

_Jesus, this was her new neighbor? she thought. He was going to be trouble, she realized, fumbling with her keys as she tried to unlock her car. Which had absolutely nothing to do with him sitting there, legs swinging merrily, his hair messy and tousled as if he'd just had a roll in the hay. Nor did it have anything to do with the hair that downed his chest, or the generous stubble on his cheeks that looked all too inviting. Absolutely nothing._

_Emma tried her usual tactic of rolling her eyes and throwing back a snide remark, but it didn't deter him in the slightest. In fact, much to her irritation, it encouraged him. "See you later, then," he laughed as she got into her car with a huff and drove off, his laughter a tangible warmth that didn't leave her for the rest of the evening._

"It's Emma," she breathed, fingers circling the waistband of his jeans, teasing him, before they danced up the hard planes of his chest, exploring and stroking. He practically purred beneath her touch.

"Well, Emma," he said, lowering her onto the bed, "let me introduce myself properly at last." He drew the strap of her bra down her shoulder with his teeth. "Killian Jones."

"I know," she gasped out as his thumb smoothed over the curve of her bra, pressing more firmly where her nipple lay underneath it. He raised an eyebrow. "You're the talk of the neighborhood," she laughed.

He looked mildly surprised at that, before it was replaced with an expression of exasperating smugness. "And what have _you_ been saying about me, then, darling?" he inquired, nibbling an earlobe as one hand slid the other strap of her bra down, the other gently lifting her from mattress until she was semi-reclined in his arms. Nimble fingers unhooked her bra, and it fell into her lap, where Killian picked it up, eyeing the red lace with avid interest before tossing it over his shoulder.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she teased, fingers burrowing into his dark hair, massaging the scalp. He closed his eyes with a sigh, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Perhaps I would," he admitted, pressing his body against hers as she drew him back on to the bed with her.

Emma reached forward and stroked the peak of hardness through the jeans he still wore. "I know what you're doing, Emma," he growled, eyes darkening with desire. "This conversation isn't over."

It was her turn to smirk. Ignoring him, she unzipped the fly of his jeans. She drew the rough fabric away from his hips. Killian obliged her efforts, shifting in the bed to shimmy out of them. Emma took advantage of the moment to push him onto his back. He grinned at her, his gaze smoldering, and twirled a lock of her hair between his fingertips. Emma slid a hand up the leg of his black boxers, squeezing his balls lightly before her fingers closed around his hardened, silky length. "Fuck," he groaned weakly, his eyes rolling back into his head before he closed them. "I've fantasized about that for weeks," he panted.

He wasn't the only one. Emma had hardly thought of anything else, herself. If it wasn't the snarky conversations they shared with each other across the fence every afternoon while Killian nursed a beer or a glass of rum, sometimes the occasional cola, shirts again nowhere to be found (Did the bastard even own any?), it was the sight of him mowing the lawn, hopelessly shirtless, every Saturday morning, that sent her mind into a frenzy of dirty thoughts...

_Emma stepped onto the back porch, a steaming mug of hot chocolate sprinkled with cinnamon clutched in one hand, the newspaper tucked underneath an arm. She eased into one of the patio chairs, stretching her legs out before her and crossing them at the ankles. It was her usual Saturday morning ritual: fail miserably at completing the daily crossword puzzle while she sipped at her drink and waited for her the caffeine to hit her blood stream and wake her up._

_She laid the paper out in her lap, reaching for the pencil she'd tucked behind one ear._

_"Morning, neighbor." _

_Emma started, spilling hot chocolate on her lap. "Shit!" she hissed, wincing as some of the liquid spilled off the newspaper and splattered onto her knee, burning her. She threw the newspaper aside and cast about for a place to set down the remains of her hot chocolate._

_There was a brief clanging sound, and before she knew it, he'd vaulted the chain link fence that separated their properties and bounded up to her. "You all right?" he asked with concern. "I didn't mean to give you such a fright."_

_"I'm fine, I'm fine," she insisted, her every nerve taut with tension, her senses hyper alert to the fact that, once, again, he was shirtless. His chest muscles gleamed with sweat, and bits of grass clung to his hair. She stole a quick glance at his yard and spied the lawnmower standing in the grass, a canister of gasoline sitting near it. _

_"You're not fine," he argued as she finally stowed the hot mug of liquid beneath her chair. "We should go inside and take care of it. It would be a shame to scar those gorgeous legs," he leered. "Do you have any aloe vera?"_

_"Any what?" she said blankly._

_He snorted. "Of course not. Come with me." Without giving her so much as the courtesy of an opportunity to protest, he took her by the hand and led her out of the back yard. They crossed over onto his property and slipped _his_ back yard, latching the gate behind them._

_"Come on in," he told her, sliding the screen door open to let her inside his house. He gestured to for her to enter. "Ladies first."_

_"I don't think so," she said with narrowed eyes. "You could be an ax-murderer, or a predator, or something."_

_Rolling his eyes, he held up his hands for her inspection. "Do these look like hands that have ever held an ax?" Blotches of ink stained fingers and palms, calluses dotting the fingertips of his right hand. _

_"No," she muttered, "but that doesn't mean anything."_

_He sighed. "Wait here, then." He stepped inside the house, then poked his head back out again. "As for the predator part, darling, I'll have you know that any prey I stalk consents willingly before I eat it." And with a swipe of his tongue across his lower lip, and an irreverent wink, he disappeared from sight completely, leaving Emma to sputter with indignation._

Her hand pumped up and down the length of him, tugging his shaft gently every time she reached the tip. He growled, his breathing becoming more and more ragged. Pleased with the effect her efforts had on him, she increased the tempo of her ministrations, tugging with a little more force. He surged up suddenly, pressing her back against the mattress. "Easy, lass," he croaked, removing his boxer shorts and then stripping her of her panties, "or it'll be over before either of us gets a chance to enjoy this properly."

Cupping a breast with one hand, he lowered his mouth onto it, tongue flicking over the nipple in quick, teasing motions that set Emma aflame. She squirmed beneath him, arcing her body against his instinctively. He chuckled, nipping at her other breast with gentleness before he nuzzled against it, his facial stubble scraping against it with an arousing roughness. Planting kisses in the crevice between her breasts, he blazed a trail downward, parting her legs with one hand to allow him better access.

Peering up at her from beneath dark, curling lashes, he grinned at her and lowered his head between her thighs. "Holy-!" She emitted a sound that was something between a pant and a groan as his warm tongue slicked through the heat gathered in her core, flicking, sucking, and gently nipping by turns. "God, Killian!" she cried, as his tongue circled her sensitive nub and flicked across it with a light nimbleness that literally made her legs tremble with the strain of holding back her orgasm.

Killian noticed her efforts and nuzzled his face against a thigh. "Let go, Emma," he whispered.

"But-but I want both of us-" she panted, unable to finish her sentence as he flicked his tongue over her nub again. Her orgasm hit hard, a drawn out scream that sounded utterly foreign to her ears emerging from her throat as it hit her in wave after wave of ecstasy. When it faded, leaving her trembling in a whole new way than before, Killian leaned over her, chuckling, the expression on his face supremely smug, and a gentle affection in his eyes that made Emma's heart skip a beat.

"Am I to take it you enjoyed yourself, _neighbor_?" he teased with an arrogant wink.

She cuffed him under the chin with one hand. "Bastard."

He cupped her face with one hand, brushing his lips across hers with a tenderness that sent a chill of warning through her. He nipped and teased his way into her mouth before she could think up a way to put distance between their hearts again, prevent their emotions from becoming entwined with what they were doing, and after a moment she became lost in the heady sensation of his kisses, his teasing strokes and gentle caresses, and ceased to care anymore.

When he lowered himself against her some time later, the tip of his shaft teasing at her entrance, Emma growled and pulled his hips forward, hands sliding around to grip the curve of his buttocks. He grinned. "So impatient, love," he chided. "Very, well, as you wish," he acceded, carefully sliding into her. Killian entered her to the hilt, eyes closing with a ragged sigh. "Emma," he murmured against her ear, "you feel so good."

She bucked her hips in response, and his eyes opened. He smiled in amusement and started to move, wordlessly guiding them both toward the release they sought with each other. His thrusts were gentle at first, almost agonizingly slow, and Emma cursed at him several times in frustration. Killian laughed. "Slow down, love," he encouraged. "Savor it."

But love was precisely what Emma was trying to avoid feeling. She'd toed the line for far too long with him already. If she didn't pull back now, she never would. Fast. Hard. Sweaty. That was what she needed, what she wanted, to distract her from the feelings stirring inside of her. She arched her hips up to meet his, slamming them together with a roughness that lit a spark of desire in his eyes.

The problem was, Emma realized as Killian's pace increased to match her own, that the more energy she poured into it, the more her feelings for him intensified. When her orgasm hit, the onslaught of emotions that washed over her was far more intoxicating than the high her release brought. Killian exploded his release into her moments later, his drawn out moan an arousing sound in itself. Panting, he peered down at her afterward, his mouth slack and the expression in his eyes faintly shocked. Kissing her underneath her chin, he rolled off of her and curled against her side, flinging an arm over her possessively.

"What the hell was that?" she managed weakly.

He laughed. "A bit of neighborly affection," he winked.

"Mmm," she said, eyeing him sidelong, her nerves singing with tension. She took a deep breath, butterflies in her stomach, as she closed her eyes and took a leap of faith. "Maybe...maybe we could be affectionate again sometime?" she tried.

She felt his lips brush against her cheek. Emma opened her eyes, and his cerulean ones watched her with a smile. "It would be my pleasure, neighbor."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here it is, as promised. And as it is actually 3am as I prepare to post this, I hope you'll forgive any mistakes or errors you come across. I'll fix them later, when I've had some rest. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

When Emma awoke early Sunday afternoon, she felt more relaxed than she had in ages. The fact that it was her only day off from work was but a happy bonus. She rolled over onto her back and stretched her arms out, luxuriating in the opportunity to laze about in her own bed. Her fingers brushed the pillow on the other side of the bed, finding it cold, and thought of the occupant whose head had lain on it so many times the previous night. When she had issued Killian an open invitation for more "neighborly affection," as he laughingly called it, she hadn't realized he'd take her up on it so instantly, nor so thoroughly and _repeatedly, _that he ended up leaving the house around three in the morning.

_"Wake up, lass," he murmured in her ear, tickling her under the chin. "Your eyes are drooping."_

_"I'm tired," she sighed, her word slurring with drowsiness. "Let me sleep."_

_"Thoroughly exhausted you, did I?" he grinned down at her, blue eyes sparkling with mirth. She swiped at him half-heartedly, mumbling curses at him. He laughed and pressed a kiss to her cheek before rolling out of the bed. "I'm heading home," he told her, reaching for his jeans. "It's nearly three o'clock."_

_She slanted a look at him through sleepy eyes, only half-processing his words. "Okay." Emma missed his next words, as well as the pleasure of watching him dress, her eyes drooping shut again as the lazy fingers of sleep tugged at her consciousness again. Her eyelashes fluttered slightly when something warm and soft pressed against her cheek a few minutes later, but they never opened fully. Dimly, she registered a charmingly accented voice speaking to her, and gentle pressure on her shoulder, but the words might as well have been in a foreign language for all that she grasped them when the voice chuckled, "Rest well, sweetheart."_

Showered and refreshed an hour later, Emma stood in her kitchen, a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had been reckless last night, in more ways than one. What had she been thinking, sleeping with her next door neighbor? If relations between them hadn't been tense and slightly awkward before, they were bound to be about ten times worse now. And what of their interactions when this...whatever it was...fizzled out? When they started bringing home other people?

The thought of Killian stumbling through his bedroom door, wrestling the clothes off another woman made her go cold. A shard of jealousy cut into her heart, jagged and sharp, and Emma closed her eyes. "Fuck," she whispered. "What the hell is wrong with you?" How had it come to this? How had she let him get to her? No one had managed to do that for _years_, not since Neal. And here this next-door-bastard was, worming his way into her affections and her _bed_ in a mere four weeks time!

What was wrong with her, wanting to wait and come with him at the same time? When was the last time she had ever wanted, or even _cared_, about that? Why had she let her emotions become involved in sleeping with him?

And what the hell special brand of mental was she to let open up to the possibility of the development of something _more_ with him, afterward?

Emma stirred her coffee with a frown, glancing toward the back door. Was he outside already? Or was he, too, sleeping late today? Licking the cream off of her spoon, she laid the spoon in her sink. Gripping the warm cup in both hands, she blew on the liquid and took a sip, considering what she would say to him when she saw him again. She felt embarrassed enough that she had given him an open invitation to come fuck her brains out whenever he felt like it, but utterly mortified with herself that she had given the invitation at all. She hadn't taken a chance, let herself be vulnerable with anyone in seven years. Seven. Freaking. _Years_.

Sighing to herself, Emma decided to bite the bullet. She opened the back door and wandered onto the porch. Shutting the door behind her, she drank deeply from her cup of coffee and tried not to let her eyes slide over to Killian's property. She still had no idea what she might say to him. Did she even need to say anything at all? They weren't in a relationship, exactly. Whatever her feelings during or afterward might have been, her invitation had been solely about sex, at least on the surface. So far as Killian was concerned, this was a fling, or a friends-with-benefits sort of situation.

Emma's eyes slid in the direction of her neighbor's yard despite her efforts otherwise. But instead of his usual smirk and wink, she found his back porch empty. She sat down in one of the patio chairs, befuddled at the disappointment she felt. She took another drink of her coffee. Before she could process what any of this might mean, she heard the screen door open on his porch.

Her gaze snapped up, and she spied Killian stepping out of his house dressed in a complete outfit for once, cell phone tucked against one ear. His words were indistinct from such a distance, but the expression on his face was unhappy. Whomever he was speaking to, Emma decided, they weren't having a pleasant conversation. "Fine," she heard him say after a few moments, his tone defeated, "come by Friday." He ended the call with the press of a button, running a hand through his dark hair, the muscles in his arms flexing tantalizingly as he did so. Emma stared down into the depths of her coffee, as if it might give her answers, debating with herself about whether or not to greet him or simply slip back inside unnoticed.

He saved her the trouble of a decision.

"You're drinking...coffee?" his voice floated over to her, laced with surprise.

Emma looked up. "And you're wearing a shirt?" she snarked back. "My, my, this is an unusual morning for both of us."

Killian grinned at her, stuffing his phone in the hip pocket of his jeans. He sauntered over toward the fence that divided their properties. A thatch of dark chest hair peeked out from the v-neck of his form-fitting red t-shirt. Emma eyed it with fascination. How the hell did he manage to drive her just as crazy with desire fully clothed as he did half-naked?

"Would you believe I finally got around to doing laundry?" he laughed.

Emma stood up and went to join him by the fence, coffee mug clutched between her hands. She flushed slightly, remembering the last time they had held a conversation in such close proximity.

_Emma threw open the back door and stomped onto the patio, madder than a hornet whose nest has been jumped on. The heads of her pink bunny slippers bobbed up and down, ears flopping to and fro, as she strode across the yard toward the fence that separated her property from her irritating next door neighbor, Killian Jones. The man had lived here a matter of _days_, and already he had managed to crawl underneath her skin and take up residence, rubbing her nerves raw. _

_"Hey!" she shouted over the noise of the chainsaw he wielded. "HEY!"_

_The noise ceased suddenly, and he shifted on the ladder where he was tending to the branches of a large oak tree, whose branches overhung the fence between their properties. He peered down at her with curiosity from behind the protective goggles he wore over his deep blue eyes. "What seems to be the problem, lass?"_

_"What the fuck do you think you are doing?"_

_He arched an eyebrow. "Trimming this tree. What does it look like I'm doing?" He shook his head. "Some of those branches," he gestured up toward the tree, "are ripe for one good storm to rip them off and fling them about, causing damage to either one of our properties."_

_"At seven freaking a.m. on a Saturday morning?!" _

_"Hmm," was all he said, giving her a considering look. He climbed down from the ladder, the bare muscles of his chest and arms rippling in a way that filled Emma's head with sinful thoughts. He removed his hard hat, pulling the goggles free when he reached the ground. He set them aside and scrubbed a hand through his dark hair, mussing it to even worse disarray than usual. "Not a morning person, then, are we?" he said, stepping up close to the fence to face her._

_She glared. "Do I look or sound like a fucking morning person right now, jackass?"_

_He grinned. "Ooh, you're a tough lass, aren't you?" His eyes travelled up and down her figure, and Emma clutched her robe more tightly around her person, regretting her decision to charge out the door without changing first. "To answer your question...no, you don't look like a morning person," he murmured, his eyes heated. He swiped his tongue across his lower lip, staring at her hair. Emma patted it self-consciously, wondering how bad it really was. "You look like someone who's...been up all night."_

_Emma ground her teeth together. Could he be any more annoying? "I work in a fucking bar, moron. Of course I'm up all night."_

_"Hmm," he said, "so I recall. One of these days, I shall have to pay this bar of yours a visit, Swan."_

_She frowned. "I don't recall tell you my name."_

_"Yes, well... I received some of your mail by mistake. I was going to return it to you yesterday afternoon, but we got rather distracted with our conversation."_

_"Speak for yourself," she snorted._

_"I'll go get it for you."_

_"Don't bother," she growled, "because I fully intend to go back inside that house and get some actual sleep. I refuse to lose out on tips at work tonight because I'm too tired to paste a fucking smile on my face and deal with customers' shit just because you decided to play the role of a goddamned woodsman this morning! Do whatever the hell you need to with the tree or the lawn, but not until ten o'clock, all right?"_

_He watched her for a moment, an amused expression on her face. "I suppose if you need your rest, I might be able to oblige you," he breathed, inching his face closer to hers. He bit his lower lip and then smiled, leaning close to her ear. The hair on the back of Emma's neck prickled at his nearness, the awareness of how one deep hitch of breath from either of them might join his lips to the skin just below her earlobe. Emma shivered. "I think I'm quite fond of you, neighbor," he whispered. "Especially when you're mad."_

_She pulled back with a start, glaring daggers at him. "You're a piece of work, you know that?" With a roll of her eyes, Emma stomped back the way she had come._

_His laughter followed her all the way into her house. _

"Not a chance," she said, clearing her throat as the memory faded. "No way you're just getting around to laundry." She gave him an arch look. "Unless you're trying to convince me you've been wearing the same two pairs of jeans all month without washing them. Which is gross, by the way."

His grin became even wider. "Been paying a lot of attention to my jeans, have you? And here I thought it was my chest you were always staring at."

"Like you don't strut around shirtless just to attract attention."

"The first time was just a coincidence, darling. After that..." He trailed off, a suggestive leer on his features.

"Bastard," she huffed, not quite managing to hide a smile.

"It worked, didn't it?" he replied smugly.

"So, what," she rolled her eyes, "now that you're finished having your fun, you start wearing shirts again?"

The amusement faded from his face. The expression in his blue eyes was somewhere between heated and sober. "Who says I'm finished, love?" Emma felt her cheeks grow hot. "Are you rescinding your invitation so soon, then?" he went on, "Because I can easily remedy the presence of this shirt if it offends you," he flirted shamelessly.

She glared at him over her coffee cup. "I hate you."

"That's not the impression I received last night, darling," he winked.

She pointedly took a sip of her coffee, and he chuckled.

"Look, come over to my place tonight," he invited, causing her heart to skip a beat. "It's only fair, since I spent so long at yours last night."

Oh. Of course.

Emma valiantly tried to swallow her disappointment along with the last cold dregs of her coffee. Trying to convince herself that she shouldn't be surprised-men like him never committed, anyway-and that it was really for the best, Emma returned to the patio, thinking.

"I'll make it worth your while," he entreated, before she could find the words to end things before they got too messy, and she ended up hurt again. "I promise."

Emma glanced over her shoulder. Big mistake. _Oh, Lord, not the puppy dog eyes_, she thought, taking in his pleading expression.

"All right," she sighed, hoping she wouldn't live to regret this, "what time?"

* * *

Emma stared at the front door of Killian's house, feeling queasy for the second time that day. She clutched the bottle of wine in her hands as if her life depended on it. What in the hell was she doing? She was playing with fire. Killian wasn't interested in anything more than sex. If she couldn't be content with that, she shouldn't be here. She should just turn and walk away.

_Screw it_, she thought. _It's just sex_. He wanted it, she wanted it. Why should she deprive herself just because she was afraid of getting hurt? Emma never let a man get close enough to hurt her. If there was anything she was good at, it was separating emotion from sex. She'd just slipped up last night because it had been too long, that was all. She'd let herself confuse the pleasure of sleeping with a man with something deeper.

So she just wouldn't let it happen again.

Emma knocked on the front door determinedly. Killian's muffled voice responded from within, and a few moments later, the door swung open. Killian peered out at her with a smile. "Hello." Gone were the jeans and t-shirt he'd worn earlier that day; he had replaced them with a pair of khaki pants, belted at the waist, and a navy, button-down shirt that seemed to bring out the blue in his eyes more than ever.

Emma suddenly felt self-conscious in her simple white tank-top and cargos. Perhaps she should have worn something nicer after all. Maybe that little red mini-dress that had hung in her closet for ages, unused.

Killian brushed at his hair absently, and Emma noticed that it was damp, in as much disarray than ever, as if he had just rubbed it with a towel.

Her mouth went dry at the thought. She felt her cheeks grow warm. "Um," she said, flustered by the thoughts of a dripping wet Killian that seemed stuck on repeat in her mind, "I brought wine?" She held the bottle out between them as if it were a shield that might protect him. It wouldn't take much for her to attack him and take him right on the front porch.

He chuckled, hands brushing against hers as he took the wine from her. "So I see. Thank you." He stepped back. "Care to come in, love? Or must I take you on the porch in front of everyone?"

Emma blushed as he echoed her own thoughts. "I should have known you'd be into the kinky shit," she muttered brushing past him.

He shut the door behind her and planted a kiss on her cheek, the scent of whatever cologne he'd put on nearly driving Emma to madness with the need to bury her face in his neck. "And you're not, love?" he murmured, trailing kisses down to her neck. He nipped at her earlobe and then pulled away with a grin. "Somehow, I doubt that very much. There's too much fire in you." He winked at her. "Let's open this wine, shall we?" He placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her through his house to the kitchen. "I didn't know whether you'd eaten," he informed her, rifling through a drawer for a corkscrew, "so I made enough for two." He nodded his head at large bowl of pasta on the counter, steam rising from it. "I don't cook much, but I can manage some noodles if need be."

"Um, no, dinner will be fine," she managed, feeling awkward. "I didn't eat much earlier."

"Nervous?" He uncorked the bottle of wine and smiled at her, pouring the wine into two glasses that he retrieved from a cabinet.

"Why should I be nervous?" she countered, accepting the glass that he held out to her. "It's just sex."

Something flickered in his eyes, and he turned to check on food in the oven. "Breadsticks are nearly ready," he informed her. "Give them another minute or two, I'd say."

Emma swirled the dark, mulberry-colored liquid around in her glass. Killian turned to face her again, picking his own glass of wine off the counter top. She smiled, arching a brow when he held up his glass with a questioning look. "What?"

"A toast, perhaps?"

"To what? Sex?" she laughed.

"Hmm," he smirked, "I was thinking of putting it in less crass terms, Swan. Perhaps...to more pleasant, ah, neighborly relations?"

Emma snorted, unable to quite contain her laughter. "Sure." She clinked her glass against his. "I can drink to that."

They ate soon after that, when the breadsticks finished baking, and on the whole, it was pleasant enough affair. Conversation was light, even casual, steadfastly avoiding topics that might deviate into territory that might become too personal, make either of them too uncomfortable. Emma discovered that they shared a love of reading, and while their tastes varied somewhat, there was enough overlap that they were able to hold a somewhat in-depth conversation about their favorite fiction genres and authors.

"Have you read the newest James B. Huckes novel?" she asked over dessert-delicious fudge brownies that nearly made her shudder with delight. "Mmm," she sighed, licking the last crumbs from her fingers, bad etiquette be damned. Killian watched her, clearly fascinated. Emma smirked at him, sticking a finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it to swipe up the brownie crumbs, and pulling it out of her mouth with a slow pop.

"What-was the question?" he faltered, staring at her hand as she laid it on the table.

"James B. Huckes. Have you read him at all?"

He frowned. "Not exactly."

"You should give him a try. I can lend you some of his books, if you like. He writes the best fairy-tale remakes. Fascinating twists on all the old tales. I never know what to expect from him."

Killian waved a hand. "That's all right, lass. Reading about fairy tales isn't exactly my thing. No offense."

"Oh." Her face fell. "Well, okay. Maybe something from August W. Booth, then? He's a great fantasy author as well. Specializes in urban fantasy, though. Pretty different from Huckes."

He eyed her with a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Persistent, aren't you?" he smirked, clearing the dishes from the table. Emma followed him out of the dining room and into the kitchen again. "All right. I'll give Booth a try." He placed the dirty dishes in the sink, spraying them down with a little bit of water to clear away the worst of the food particles. "But only if you take something from my collection in return." He turned away from the sink and caught her in his arms. "Perhaps discussing them will give us something to do besides fight with each other."

_And fuck each other_. The words hung in the air, unspoken, but charging it with tension just the same. Emma inhaled deeply, gazing up into his eyes. He watched her in return, his expression serious, even contemplative. Before she knew it, his face had inched close to hers, their noses brushing against each other, breath ragged as they hesitated to seal their lips together.

"Emma," he whispered, "I don't-"

"Shhh," she told him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Let's go upstairs."

He nodded once, and slipped his hand into hers. He led her up the stairs and into a large room decorated in rich hues of brown, gold, and red. Killian sat down on the bed and looked at Emma. A corner of her mouth quirked up into a smile. She sat in his lap sideways, sliding her arms around his neck again, and leaned into him, inhaling the scent of his cologne again; it was comforting and arousing all at once. She slanted her mouth against his, and he obliged, allowing her access, matching her kiss for kiss in a bizarre but electrifying competition to see whom could outlast whom.

By the time they broke apart, chests heaving as they drew air into their lungs again, neither of them could have said who was the winner, nor would either of them have cared. Nimble fingertips slid beneath the hem of Emma's tank top, caressing the skin along her abdomen before moving up toward her breasts. Killian reclined her on the bed, leaning his body over hers, sucking at a sensitive spot along her collarbone as his hand snaked underneath her bra. Emma gasped when he rolled a nipple between his finger and thumb, nerves singing with fevered delight. Heat coursed into her thighs.

"Killian," she murmured, raking her fingers across his back, hands traveling southward to the waistband of his pants. Emma fiddled with the belt, trying to unbuckle it, and he chuckled. "All in good time, Swan." He helped divest her of her tank top, sliding his fingers along the white garment beneath it. He freed one breast from its cup and swirled his tongue around the nipple, causing Emma's leg to jerk in surprise. Flashing her a pleased expression, he drew the nipple into his mouth and sucked. Emma stirred restlessly beneath him, her hips arching up to grind against his body with need.

She gripped his waist as if her life depended on it while he turned his attention to the other breast, and decided that turn about was fair play. Pressing into his chest with her hands, he paused, looking at her in confusion, his eyes fogged with lust. Emma took the opportunity to push him onto his back, she straddled his legs. Unbuttoning his shirt with a swiftness that surprised even her, Emma kissed and stroked her way down his chest, following the line of hair to the waistband of his pants. When she reached his trousers, she paused, cupping him through the material before unbuckling his belt. Emma pulled it free with a slight hiss, tossing it onto the floor behind her.

"Quite alluring, Swan," he said in a breathy voice.

Emma ignored him and unfastened his pants, reaching a hand into the forest green boxers he sported today. He inhaled with a hiss. Smiling to herself, she pulled his boxers down to his thighs. She ran a fingertip up his shaft from base to tip, watching with delight as he shivered in response. Smirking, Emma leaned down and took him into her mouth. "Fuck, Emma," he groaned, bucking his hips up as she started a torturously slow rotation of her tongue around his length.

She laughed, the hum of it causing Killian's eyes to roll back in his head at the sensation.

Eventually, after Emma had tortured Killian to the brink of ejaculation, he flipped them over again, ripped their remaining clothing off, and set about one-upping her in her oral ministrations. "Goddammit, Killian," she swore weakly after he'd coaxed her into coming for a third time, "I'm not going to have anything left at the end, at this rate."

"Oh, you'll not miss out in the finale, I assure you," he smirked with a cockiness that she found as maddeningly attractive as she did irritating. "Let me prove it to you..."

What followed was the most intense, sweaty, frantic round of fucking she'd ever experienced in her life, her hips arching up with desperation to meet him thrust for thrust. But Killian was right. Come, she did, with a long, drawn out moan that made him chuckle, his blue eyes shining with pleasure as he watched. Kissing her fiercely, their tongues sliding and twining against each other, Killian finally came, too, his moans muffled by her mouth.

Emma rubbed her hands in lazy circles against his back, enjoying the weight of him settled on top of her. Eventually, Killian rolled off of her, offering her a lazy smile, and tucked her against him. "Enjoyed yourself, love?" he asked, kissing her just below her earlobe.

"And then some," she admitted, her body humming with pleasure beneath the touch of his fingers as he stroked the curve of her hip. She rolled over to face him. He was watching her with a healthy measure of satisfaction.

"Good."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Because I needed to write something really happy to combat all the angst everyone else seems to be writing lately! My shipper heart cannot take any more!**

* * *

Emma listened to the clink of glasses and the intermittent roar of bar patrons fixated on tonight's game as she wiped down the bar. It wasn't an idle task, given the overly brash asshole that had been escorted out of the bar a short time ago because he couldn't keep his hands to himself. Her boss never did take over familiarity with his staff too well, so when Emma had alerted him that Ruby was being harassed, Graham had confronted the bastard, and things had taken an ugly turn. Glasses had been smashed and drinks spilled as the two men struggled with each other, but it wasn't long before Graham hauled the offending jackass out, with orders not to darken their doorstep ever again.

"You all right?" Emma murmured to her friend as she re-emerged from the ladies room, looking much calmer than she had several minutes earlier when all hell had broken loose.

"Yeah," Ruby said with a tiny smile as she resumed her task of mixing drinks at the other end of the bar. "You know how it goes."

Emma did. She knew it all too well. But the difference was, a bar brawl made _her_ blood surge and sing with a delicious fervor as adrenaline took over-not shake like a leaf. It wasn't for nothing that Graham called Emma his "deputy." She had been in a fair number of bar tussles herself, and escorted out her own share of unruly customers, if needed, but Graham preferred to handle it himself if he was present, and Emma generally deferred to his wishes since he _was_ the owner.

"I guess," she replied with a shrug, glancing toward one of the TVs as the majority of their patrons cheered. Had they scored?

"Well, hell-ooooo," Ruby catcalled under her breath. "Yes, I'll be just fine once I get a piece of that."

Emma looked up with amusement, wondering who her friend had set her sights on this time, and was shocked to see Killian ambling into the bar. He flashed Ruby a knowing grin, but made a beeline toward Emma instead, seating himself on a stool directly in front of her. "Hello, neighbor," he said in a low tone, with a cheeky grin.

"Wearing a shirt again, I see," she said stupidly, unable to fathom that he was actually here at her job.

"Mmm, well I understand they won't serve you if you walk in without one," he winked. "But if you'd prefer," he said in a husky voice, leaning across the bar toward her until their faces were inches apart, "I can remedy that for you later." He smiled winningly, biting his lower lip in the way that always drove her crazy.

Over Killian's shoulder, Emma spied Graham watching from a distance, his expression suspicious. Catching Emma's gaze, he raised his eyebrows in a silent query, but Emma shook her head at him. He frowned, as if he wasn't convinced, but made no move to interfere.

Emma glanced back at Killian. "Is that an invitation?" she flirted back.

"Most assuredly."

Heat coursed through her at the hint of seduction in his tone, and she felt her cheeks warm. "Um, what'll you have?" she asked, clearing her throat awkwardly. Killian chuckled, shooting her a knowing gaze, and ordered a glass of one of the on-tap beers they offered. "Back in a moment," she assured him.

"Who _is_ that guy?" Ruby hissed over her shoulder the moment Emma retrieved a glass for Killian's drink order. "Emma! Have you been holding out on me?"

"Um," she said with a flash of guilt that surprised her, "sort of."

"'Sort of' as in you two obviously flirt like crazy, or 'sort of' as in you have shared a seriously hot lip lock?"

"Um," she said again, turning toward the tap to fill Killian's glass with the correct beer.

Emma saw Ruby's eyes widen out of the corner of her eye. "No way!" she exclaimed in a smothered shriek of delight. "You two banged?" She peered over at Killian curiously. "You think he's back for more?" Her mouth fell open a little when Emma didn't respond, staring with laser-like precision at the tap, her cheeks heating with a blush. "No way!" she hissed. "How many times? How was it? Are you two a thing? God, I'm so jealous! He is a seriously fine specimen of the male species."

"Victor's not so bad," Emma said nonchalantly, peering over at her co-worker-become-friend-and also neatly sidestepping the issue of what, exactly, she and Killian were. Because she was damned if she knew.

"Victor?" Ruby blinked in confusion. "You think Victor has the hots for me?" She peered out into the crowd of people, seeking out the blond-haired man.

"Come on, you seriously didn't see it?" Emma turned off the tap, admiring the thick foam that floated on top of the golden-colored beverage. "Everyone knows it except you, apparently."

"But-Victor flirts with every girl," she protested. "It doesn't mean anything. You know how he is. Has a different girl on his arm practically every week."

"But he doesn't bring them here himself," Emma felt the need to point out. She picked up a napkin to wipe the rim of the glass where some of the beer had spilled over it. "_They_ find him. And he _is_ a horrible flirt-" much like Killian, she suspected, "-but he's different with you. Haven't you noticed? His flirting isn't the same. He doesn't use his sleazy tactics on _you_; it's genuine."

Ruby spun toward her with narrowed eyes. "Stop trying to distract me, Emma Swan!" She shook a finger at her. "We are going to talk about this later."

Emma flashed her a grin and strode away, chuckling to herself.

"What's so funny, love?" Killian inquired as she placed a napkin down on the bar and set his beer on top of it.

"Oh, just driving Ruby crazy," she shrugged. "So why are you really here?" Emma turned away and retrieved some lemons and limes from the mini-fridge behind the bar, and began cutting them up.

He arched an eyebrow. "I have to have an ulterior motive? Isn't it reasonable that I simply wanted a drink?" Killian sipped at his beer as if to prove his point.

"Uh-huh. Except that we both know I've seen your liquor cabinet. You're hardly hurting for a drink at home."

"Perhaps I wanted company, then."

Emma crossed her arms. "Killian, we've been...keeping each other company every afternoon before I come to work. There has to be more to it than that." She paused in her work to look at him. Blue eyes locked with her own. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He smiled faintly. "So the stereotype about you bartenders is true, then."

She swatted at his arm playfully, and he smiled. "Well, I can't promise any real advice, but I'm good at listening, so I suppose that part is true enough," she offered with a wry smile of her own. "And I'm only doing this until I finish law school and pass the bar."

"Ah, an ambitious woman." His face lit up with interest, and he eyed her with a familiar heat in his eyes. "I always did love a challenge." She raised an eyebrow, prodding him toward further explanation, but a patron called out a drink order to her, and she shot him an apologetic look. He shrugged, as if he'd expected it long before, and returned to his beer.

As it turned out, Emma had to fill orders for more than just one drink. The performance of their city's team had taken a turn for the worse, and it was apparently too much for their customers to bear while sober. It was all Ruby and Emma could do to keep up with the sudden crush of people returning to the bar with orders, or flagging them down from the tables, and it wasn't long before Graham stepped in to lend them a hand. The three of them worked like the gears of a well-oiled machine, their familiarity with each other's habits enabling them to work in near-complete silence. Emma and Graham mixed and shook and poured while Ruby ferried drinks back and forth, flashing her wide, winning smile at customers to soothe their ruffled feathers, and commiserating about the horrible turn the game had taken.

She glanced at Killian from time to time, worried that she might find an empty stool the next time she looked in his direction. But amazingly enough, he seemed content to remain perched on his stool, Graham occasionally refilling his glass with more beer. Killian alternated between watching the game with the rest of the bar, and tapping on his phone from time to time, and Emma wondered if he was texting someone. And if so, whom?

By the time the rush died down and Emma could breathe again, her shift was nearly over. "Hey," she said, leaning across the bar from him again. "Sorry about that, it got kind of crazy for a while."

Killian turned to look at her, and he shot her a slightly goofy smile. "Hello, lass," he drawled, his Irish accent thicker than usual. He gave her a slightly exaggerated wink, his blue eyes a little glassy, and Emma bit her lip to keep from laughing. He cocked his head to the side. His eyes traveled up and down her figure, tongue swiping across his lower lip hungrily. "Have I mentioned you look quite lovely tonight?"

Emma snorted. She was wearing her work uniform. And all right, the summer version that she sported tonight consisted of black shorts and a white scoop-neck t-shirt with the bar's name, Humbert's, scrawled across it in cursive, but it was hardly as skimpy as he made it sound. Her shorts covered much more of her than the uniforms their competitors used for their female staff (a fact which had cemented Emma's respect for her boss). And much of this was covered with the ugly apron she wore, anyway.

"Come on, Romeo," she smirked, "I'll take you home." Emma untied her apron and hung it on a peg on the wall behind her. Graham glanced at Killian again, then jerked his head in the opposite direction, signaling that he wanted to speak with her. Emma sighed and trudged over.

"What's up?"

"Emma, I normally make it a policy not to pry into the lives of my employees, but are you sure you're going to be all right going home tonight? Ruby can handle it for a few minutes while I walk you out to your car, and I can get a cab for your admirer over there."

"Um, no," she answered awkwardly, sliding her hands into the back pocket of her shorts. The moment she did, she swore she could feel the heat of Killian's gaze right on her ass. Carefully ignoring the urge to turn around and confirm her suspicions, she fixed a steady gaze on her concerned boss. "Killian's my next door neighbor. It would be silly to call him a cab, when I can drive him home." Graham's eyes narrowed, and he looked as if he wanted to protest again, but Emma held up a hand. "It's okay. I trust him. He's good people."

"All right," her boss sighed, glancing over at Killian again. "But text me when you get back home, so I don't have to worry."

"Sure thing." She smiled at him and retrieved her purse from the locked drawer he provided for personal affects. Slinging the strap over her shoulder, she waved goodbye to Ruby, who was clearing off some of the empty tables, and went to collect Killian.

"Come on," Emma said, slipping her arm around his waist to steady him as he stepped off the stool, "let's get you home."

* * *

Killian was unusually quiet during the drive back, and for a while Emma was certain he had fallen asleep. When he finally spoke, she nearly jumped out of her own skin, her grip on the steering wheel tightening instinctively. "You realize your boss is in love with you." She slammed on the brakes, her yellow bug screeching to a halt in front of his house.

"What the hell?" she yelled. "I thought you were asleep!"

He turned, leveling her with a gaze that was more alert than she had expected under the circumstances. "You were mistaken."

"Obviously," she huffed. "And what the hell do you mean, my boss is in love with me?"

"Exactly what I said. You didn't know?"

Emma felt herself flush. She had suspected for quite some time, actually. But as attractive as he was, with his brown, curling locks and puppy-dog eyes, she had never let herself entertain the idea of a relationship with him. He was her boss. And she liked her job, even if it _was_ somewhat temporary in nature until she finished her studies and passed the bar exam. She had no intention of screwing it up and being forced to burn any bridges.

She sighed. "Killian, why are you telling me any of this?" He chewed on his lower lip, looking away, but offered no further comments. "Fine, then. Let's just get you inside." She turned the car off and pulled the key out of the ignition. Exiting the vehicle, she rounded the car and walked over to help him, but Killian was already out of the vehicle, stretching his arms with a frown. "You're awfully limber all of a sudden," she said suspiciously.

He winked at her. "I'm always limber, darling." He sidled closer to her, arms slipping around her waist, pulling her close. "Come inside and allow me to demonstrate." His hands travelled down to her ass, cupping it firmly.

She smiled, shaking her head. "You're incorrigible."

"That a yes?"

Emma tilted her head. "I don't know. You gonna regret this in the morning? I wouldn't want to take advantage of you in your condition," she teased.

"Hmm," he said, "well, I'm hardly drunk, lass. A bit tipsy, yes, but perfectly aware of what I'm about." He nipped at her earlobe. "And I never regret a moment with you," he murmured into her ear, nuzzling at her neck. Emma blinked several times, trying to process what he had just said, analyze what it meant, but he pulled away, slipping his hand into hers.

They were inside his house and peeling each other's clothes off before she knew it, barely having the presence of mind to shut the front door before they attacked each other in earnest. Killian backed her against the wall, hands pressing against her hips, tongue skimming up the length of her neck. "Emma," he murmured, kissing her on the lips, "Emma."

She returned his kiss, begging for entrance into his mouth with a playful nip of her teeth on his lower lip. And God, it felt good to do that, she thought as he obliged, after all the times he had almost driven her to madness with his peculiar oral tics. She hummed with pleasure as he lifted her shirt, tossing it aside. His eyes darkened with arousal, and his hands skated across her back, unhooking the clasp of her bra. Cupping a breast between his hands, he laved the nipple with his skilled tongue. Emma shuddered with pleasure. "God, Killian," she said breathlessly. "I've waited all night for you to do that."

"Have you, love?" he chuckled, blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Were you thinking about that while you were working tonight?"

"Hard not to, with you sitting there smirking at me over your beer and undressing me with your eyes," she defended herself.

He laughed, pressing his forehead against hers. "Felt that, did you? Well, that's not the only thing that's hard tonight, darling." His hand found its way into hers again. "Come upstairs with me, and I'll show you."

Emma followed him, thinking vaguely that she ought to retrieve her shirt so it would be easier when she left later, but all sensible thought soon fled from her mind once he pressed her into his bed. One hand unclasped the button of her shorts, the other sneaking below its waistband and burrowing beneath her underwear. Emma obliged his efforts by peeling both layers off, and he hummed with pleasure at the sight of her, bared to him, as if he hadn't seen it many times before now.

"So lovely," he said quietly, almost as if speaking to himself. He pressed a trail of kisses up her inner thigh, fingers stroking at her sensitive nub. Pleasure pooled between her thighs, and she shifted restlessly, pressing herself more firmly into his touch. Killian pulled his hand away with a smirk, watching her with satisfaction so thick that she could practically smell it. Emma almost moaned in protest before he lowered his head between her thighs and began to suckle at the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Her hands clenched at the sheets in a vain attempt to brace herself, her hips rocking upward as her body instinctively thrust itself into his ministrations, silently begging for more. "Oh God," she cried, the muscles in her thighs and calves so tense that they ached. "Oh God!"

She shattered, her orgasm hitting hard and fast, the waves long and intense. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced before, and she felt faintly amazed that Killian had managed to coax it out of her. Every time she thought the sex with him couldn't get any better, he somehow managed to prove her wrong.

When they lay curled against each other later, limbs tangled together, sleepy after their exertions, Killian fixed her with a smile that made her heart thump harder. "Stay," he invited, tucking a lock of tangled hair behind her ear. "It's late."

"It's just next door," she protested. "It's not like I have far to go."

"As you say," he acquiesced after a moment of silence.

"But...if you're really sure...?" Emma said after a long internal struggle in which she played out all the possible consequences if she did stay.

Killian pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. "I'm sure."

* * *

Something warm and smooth brushed across her stomach, and Emma sighed with contentment, pressing into it. Even half-asleep, she recognized him, smelled the scent of rum and soap and something else, something so familiar and comforting to her that she _should_ have recognized it, but which always lingered just beyond her ability to properly identify it; a mysterious scent which she had finally just come to identify as _Killian_. "Morning," she murmured without opening her eyes, savoring the press of his lips to her skin, the scrape of his scruff to her collarbone.

"Just 'morning'?" he chuckled. She opened her eyes. As she had suspected, he wore a smirk that was equal parts irritating and arousing-and absolutely nothing else. He leaned over her and brushed some hair away from her forehead. "Well, if that's the way of it, darling," he said, hands skating down the curve of hips, "let me give you something to get yours off to a good start."

"It already is," Emma said without thinking. Killian pulled back slightly and stilled, gazing at her with an expression that she couldn't quite interpret. _Dammit_, she thought, wakening fully. Wasn't it enough that they had spent the night together? Why did she have to go and fuck it up by saying something so stupid? _Because I need caffeine_, she thought with chagrin. _Lots and lots of caffeine, apparently_.

"Well, then," he said after a moment, "let me make it even better." He kissed the curve of her breast.

"Wait," she said, feeling confused, "you're not freaked out or upset?"

"Should I be?" He blinked at her with a confused expression of his own. "About what?"

"About what I said," she answered, feeling her face grow hot.

He paused, releasing the nipple he'd been rolling between his fingers. Emma felt a brief flash of disappointment. Killian drew back and lay on his side next to her."No, darling, I'm not upset."

"I don't understand," she confessed. "I mean-I never do this."

"Do what?"

"Spend the night! I haven't-this is the first time in...well, a long time," she hedged, unwilling to divulge any information that might lead to discussion about Neal. She wasn't remotely ready to have that discussion with him yet. "And most guys, they would-well, they wouldn't take it well if I said something like that to them."

"Then they're bloody stupid cowards," he stated. Killian tilted his head, studying her. He bit his lower lip, chewing on it in the way that always drove Emma crazy with desire. "Why did you say it?"

"Because-well, I don't know!" she said helplessly. "I mean, I was half asleep." She winced at the callousness of her own words, but Killian only chuckled. "You're laughing?" she said in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because if you were half asleep, then it was certainly the truth. And that means you don't regret your decision to stay." He smiled at her crookedly.

"Were you worried that I would?"

"Perhaps," he admitted. He seemed to hesitate. "I've not spent the night with a lass in quite some time, either."

She blinked at him in surprise, and he arched an eyebrow. Emma ignored the dare. "So," she swallowed, running a hand down his chest, fingers curling into the dark chest hair that downed his skin. He fairly purred under her touch, shifting restlessly beside her, a smile curling across his face. "You said something about making my good morning even better?"

Killian placed an arm over her waist and drew her nearer to him. "Happy to oblige, love," he chuckled, brushing a kiss across her lips.


End file.
